


Not You Too, Please.

by Soldierlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, BAMF!John, M/M, Sexual Content, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soldierlocked/pseuds/Soldierlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s always the same, really. Day by day I wake up, reload my gun, clean my knives, and pack my bag for the day. I don’t expect anything more, I’m quite content with life as it is. Besides all the endless groaning and bloodshed, I’d say it’s a pretty good life to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s always the same, really. Day by day I wake up, reload my gun, clean my knives, and pack my bag for the day. I don’t expect anything more, I’m quite content with life as it is. Besides all the endless groaning and bloodshed, I’d say it’s a pretty good life to live. No going to clinics and checking hysterical children with runny noses and their mothers worried sick. No need for money either. I travel alone most of the time, it’s easier this way really. I’m not in charge of some idiotic person who could get us killed in a second. After Harriet died.. I didn’t see the point.  
John grabbed the last of his things and packed them all into his bag. Writing in a journal really was good idea. It kept him sane with the lack of human contact. Besides, all human contact now resulted to bloodshed, He didn’t want any.. of those things biting him too. John glanced around the flat he’d locked himself into for the night, It wasn’t much, but it did the job of a good night’s rest without the worry of becoming Their next meal. He slipped his gun into the back of his pants and exited the flat he broke into.

It was quiet, but it always was now. John walked down the road groggy, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He liked getting a head start on every day’s journey. Wanting to stay alive as long as possible required sleep and food, unfortunately. Which also meant planning and being able to kill. John called Them the Undead or just.. Them. He was getting rather good at avoiding them though, ever since the incident with Harriet. He liked to avoid Them as much as possible, considering he needed to save his ammo too It was limited after all.

Looking up he saw a Tesco. Well, this could either be a good thing or bad thing. John glanced around and saw none of Them, so he reached back and grabbed his gun. Slowly he walked into the Tesco, he didn’t hear anything alarming. He crept into the aisles looking for food that seemed edible, and medicine. He shoved all the pills they had left into his bag along with the rest of the canned soups, vegetables and fruit.

A bottle shattered to the floor and John turned around swiftly to see one of Them only several feet away. This one looked rather disturbing, half of an arm missing dripped with blood. Face torn apart, no hair. Guts hanging from it’s mouth. It limped over to John and growled.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” John grumbled

He had two options shoot, the thing in the head, or run away with the chance of attracting more and getting trapped somehow. Goddamnit, he needed to think quick. John dropped his bag, aimed his Browning and shot the thing in the forehead, watching as it fell to the floor. He sighed, and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and walking out of the now vacant Tesco.

He had at least 8 hours or so until sundown, so he needed to plan out what to do in the short amount of time. Heaving in some fresh air, he began down the opposite street.

Sometimes he thought it wouldn’t be so bad have some company. It can really depress someone, when these Things are the only human contact you have, and you begin to talk to yourself, eat by yourself, and eventually die by yourself.

John can barely remember the days when he had his psychosomatic limp. Broken down soldier everyone felt sorry for, John hated them all. He was so close to ending his life. Then the outbreak came. Some bloody scientist thought it was a good idea to inject primates with some kind of virus and all shit broke loose. John lost his limp right away, thanks to that. So maybe it wasn’t so bad? Adrenaline junkie John Watson enjoys killing undead and working alone

  
The streets were too empty today, not sure if that’s a good thing. When things were too quiet it made him anxious. He needed to kill; what good was he if he doesn’t have anything to destroy? _Oh god, John. What has happened to you_? John snapped out of his trance and scanned in front of him. There was blinking from a flat up ahead. Could be a trap. The humans still alive and struggling along could get desperate, and cruel. They would get you to trust them, then fuck you over, taking everything you owned and leaving you to die. So John liked to avoid contact with them as well.

He gripped his gun still in his hand and aimed it walking up slowly to the abandoned looking flat, which was in rather good conditions for a flat.

“Hello?”

No response.

John bit his lip, and opened the door slowly. Luckily it didn’t creak like every single fucking door in existence. He’s had bad experiences with doors and those Things.

“Is anybody here?”

No response.

Right, well. It was obviously empty. He should just leave.

John began to turn around, but he heard a gunshot coming from the upstairs bedroom. He dropped his bag and sprinted up the stairs aiming his Browning, ready.

John heard a loud growl and several more gunshots, until it died down. He caught a faint moan several seconds later. He crept to the room with the source of the sound to see a decapitated undead- obviously the gun’s doing. John heard that moaning coming again from his left, and he turned to see a rather attractive, too skinny man, sitting up against the wall

“Mate, you okay?” John asked the stranger.

“Oh I’m fine. I just have a twisted ankle!” The man snapped

“I was just asking, you git.” John retorted.

John crouched down next to the man, checking his ankle carefully. He’d be fine, it just needed to be wrapped up. The man was lucky it wasn’t broken, otherwise he’d be a free meal.

The man hissed in pain, and tried to push John away.

“Oi, stop it. I’m a doctor, stop whining and let me do my damned job.”

The man fell silent and leaned back into the wall letting John do his work. He wrapped up the ankle with the bandages he had grabbed from a previous Tesco trip and stood up, helping the man up in the process. The man slung his arm around John’s neck and put the other hand on the wall to balance them.  
“What’s your name?” John looked over to the man, grabbing his waist to make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Pointless in telling you.” The man replied

John sighed and helped the man down the stairs instead; he obviously won’t be any good with his ankle like this. But he really didn’t want to leave the poor man, even if staying with him meant putting himself at risk. John set him down into a couch.

“Are you in a lot of pain?”  
“You can go now.” The man replied coolly

“Can’t you at least be thankful? I just bandaged your ankle and helped you down stairs. Are you like this with everyone” John growled Honestly the man had some nerve, being an arse to someone willing to be of some help . Any other person would probably steal his possessions and leave him to rot.  
The man didn’t reply and just looked up to the ceiling.

John couldn’t leave him like this, he just couldn’t. He grabbed his bag by the entrance, walked to the door, and locked it. When he turned around he saw a shocked, yet relieved looking man penetrating him with grey-blue eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, not with your ankle like that.” John said quietly.

The man nodded and closed his eyes.

John sat in the opposite chair facing the man, and scavenged through his bag to grab two cans of fruit.

“Peaches or Apples?” The man shrugged in response. John set the peaches next to him, and handed the canned apples to the man. The man set it down next to him and settled into an odd pose, pressing his hands together.

Was he supposed to be praying or something? John ignored him and opened the can, devouring his first meal of the day.  
“Sherlock Holmes,” The man said casually.

“I’m sorry?”

“My name. It’s Sherlock.”

“Oh, I’m John Watson.”

“Afghanistan or Iraq, John?”


	2. Chapter 2

John paused from shock.  _What did he just say?_

“I didn’t quite catch that?” 

“Yes you did, you’re just surprised.” Sherlock said, not bothering to look up.

“How could you possibly know I was in the army?” John replied.

“Obvious. Your stance and whole attitude about this situation clearly says you’re skilled with a weapon and combat. You didn’t panic when you saw blood and you were ready to shoot. Also you decided to help me instead of robbing me and leaving me to die, so you have morals. You knew how to treat a sprain, that screams doctor. You’re a bit tanned for London so you’ve been overseas. Army Doctor it is, which brings me back to my question, Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock said, annoyed.

“That.. was amazing.”

Sherlock looked at John slightly confused and surprised.

“Really? Thank you.” 

“Yes, that was brilliant.” John said.

“People normally say ‘piss off’.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore. They’re all dead or one of Them.” John smiled a bit.

Sherlock smiled back and started to pick at his apples slowly.

They ate in a comfortable silence. Neither knew what to say, but it was pleasant to eat without someone wanting to devour you

John flung his can to the side and relaxed back into his chair and closed his eyes. Sherlock picked at his apples some more and set them down next to him and glanced to the door.

“We can’t stay here much longer, not very safe. I’ve got a flat down the street. Shouldn’t take us longer than ten minutes,” Sherlock whispered.

John opened his eyes and followed Sherlock’s gaze to the door.  _He was right, it wasn’t very safe here. Plus the sound could’ve attracted more of them._

 They couldn’t stay here much longer, soon it would be sunset and they’d be stranded.

“Alright.” John said.

John collected his things, put his gun back into its spot, and helped Sherlock up.  _This was going to be tough, especially if there are some of Them out there waiting._

“If we manage to run into some of the undead you’re free to leave me.”

John startled, looked to Sherlock, and frowned.

“I’m not leaving you, so shut up. Let’s go.” John said.

They walked slowly to the door and unlocked it.

“Ready when you are.” John gave a hopeful smile.

They both opened the door and walked out cautiously. None of Them were in sight yet. Where were they going-

“Baker Street.” Sherlock Interrupted.

Not too far away, ten minutes max. John held onto Sherlock and steadied him as he limped down the road. John looked out for some of Them- he was their source of survival at the moment. Sherlock hissed in pain as they got further up the street. They were making progress at least, if they did attract any unwanted… It would be a bit not good.

Behind them they heard a snarl and pattering sound.  _Shit._  John shoved Sherlock aside, turned around and aimed his gun quickly onto the sprinting undead bearing its teeth at him. One.. two.. three.. John took a deep breath and shot It in the forehead.

It dropped to the ground, twitching for several seconds blood spilling from its face. Adrenaline rushed through John and he quickly grabbed Sherlock and half jogged, half dragged him down the street screaming “Where?!”

He heard screeches from where they were at earlier. 

_They were getting closer, shit shit shit shit shit. More than one this time, they needed to hurry._

“Third flat on the right, 221B.” Sherlock said in a rushed voice, and shoved his keys at John.

John fumbled with the keys and found the right fit and bursted into the flat. He dragged Sherlock in after him shoving him against the wall as he shut the door and locked it, heaving in breaths of air. Sherlock looked over at John trying to catch his breath and grinned. John glanced at him and started to giggle quietly as he leaned up against the wall next to Sherlock and slid onto his arse, burying his head between his knees. Sherlock’s ankle ached as he sat down quietly next to John and joined him in his giggle session.

As the adrenaline died down they sat there in silence as they heard their chasers run down the street looking for them.

It took John several more moments to realize that they were gripping each other’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in school, sadly. But I'll keep trying to update regularly! I'm really sorry about the length of this one, I'll make sure the next one is longer. Been rather busy lately, so.. I hope you guys enjoyed this! :)
> 
> Amber, I love you for betaing still.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m sorry,” John lifted his hand from Sherlock’s and stood up using the wall  for support. 

  _What’d I do that for? Oh god, he’s going to think I’m some kind of pervert._

 Sherlock winced as he attempted to get off the floor, John noticing grabbed his hand and hauled him up and held onto his waist again.

 “Upstairs,” Sherlock said.

 John nodded and carefully crept up the stairs trying to hold his and Sherlock’s weight. He was a soldier, he’s been through worse but normally his companions knew what they were doing. Sherlock on the other hand didn’t seem very experienced with combat or being injured.

 John opened the door at the top of the stairs and they both walked into a room full of papers and test tubes. John located a nearby couch and set Sherlock onto it as he scanned his surroundings for escapes and weapons. 

 “Do you always do that?”

 “I’m sorry? Do what?” John replied.

 “You’re searching for escape routes and weapons.”

 “I liked to be prepared for the worst. You never know what can happen, one minute it’s fine and the next you’ve got a bunch of Them in here trying to rip you to pieces.” John murmured.

 John sat in the chair facing Sherlock and searched through his bag for nothing in particular but it was getting a bit... awkward.

 Sherlock stared at John but said nothing, they sat in silence for what seemed like hours until Sherlock finally decided to break it.

 “John, I know you don’t like being tied to people so you can leave whenever. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere while your ankle is like that, besides I do get rather lonely sometimes. It’s fine, really.” John said.

 Sherlock bit his lip and nodded.

 “So.. what did you do for a living?” John asked.

 “I was a consulting detective, worked with Scotland Yard when they were too stupid to solve the cases. Which happened to be all the time.”

 John nodded and turned his gaze to what looked like a kitchen, but was full of beakers and test tubes.

 “So what’s with the kitchen looking like a scientist’s lab?”

 “I get bored.”

 “You could’ve watched telly or talk to people.”

 “Dull and I don’t have any friends.”

 A deafening silence, John shifted at the tension of the situation. 

 He frowned. “Listen-”

 “Don’t look at me like that. Everyone was too dull.” Sherlock replied

 “What about girlfriends? Boyfriends?”

 “Not my area.”

 John nodded.

 “Well, we have one thing in common. Both unattached.” John smiled.

 Sherlock hummed in response, relaxing into the couch.

 “There’s an extra bedroom upstairs, feel free to use it.”

 “Alright, thanks. I think I’ll go wash up then. Tell me if you’re in any pain or need anything, yeah?”

 Sherlock nodded.

 

* * *

 

The water was cold, but it was better than nothing. He was in a safe location where he could sleep for tonight. He wasn’t alone anymore either. John didn’t know how long Sherlock was going to want to keep him around but he actually liked Sherlock’s company. Although he was a bit of an arse.

 John stared into the mirror after his shower. Keeping up appearances wasn’t an issue anymore, but John liked to stay relatively clean. He put his dirty clothes back on and brushed his teeth before walking into his bedroom. The bedroom was rather empty aside from the few boxes crowding the corner, but there was a single bed and a night stand. John set his bag next to the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. He still had a few hours before sundown, so he could probably go fetch some necessities. Doubt Sherlock has anything useful, his entire kitchen is full of experiments and he’s practically a walking skeleton.

 John heard rummaging downstairs, he grabbed his gun and made his way down the stairs to see Sherlock tinkering with his experiments.

 “Must you always have your gun on you? It’s just me.” Sherlock said not bothering to look up.

 “You were supposed to be resting.” John replied

 “Boring.”

 John sighed and scratched the back of his head “Try not to make too much noise, yeah? Don’t want anymore company.”

 “Mmm.” Sherlock hummed.

 John sat down back in the chair he occupied earlier.

  _Right so clearly, I need to get some water and maybe some more food. My stock is running low. More medicine and bandages. Uhh, perhaps some knives. That way I don’t have to use my gun, I’m running low on ammo. What else do I need-_

 “Shut up.” 

 “What? I didn’t say anything.”

 “You’re thinking, it’s annoying.”

 John sighed and grabbed his coat. Honestly the man could be a little more kind, they’ve only just met. But I guess that was just Sherlock, no wonder he didn’t have many friends.

 “Where are you going?” Sherlock asked, looking up.

 “Is there a nearby Tesco somewhere?”

 “Down the street.”

 “Right, I’ll be back.”

 John made sure he had his gun on him and started out the door when he heard Sherlock speak.

 “John, be careful.”

 John paused.

 “Of course.”

 He walked out into the previously zombie infested street below clutching his gun. John exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. He looked out across the street to see none of Them, but surely he was going to run into some soon. He looked down the street that he was going to take.

 He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  _Okay, I can do this. I have someone to come back to. No screwing up now Watson._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't beta-d! I'm really sorry for any mistakes! I'm hoping to upload the next chapter within a few days but we'll see how busy I get. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

It took John 10 minutes to get to the local Tesco, he entered quietly trying to listen for noises that indicate that he wasn't alone.

  _I need deodorant, bandages, painkillers and any edible food I can find. I’ve got to be quick._

 John crept through the several aisles taking his time to look at the limited stock and grabbed all the medicine and bandages he could find. Extra painkillers for Sherlock. While he was in the canned foods aisle he looked at the expiration dates of the cans and grabbed the remainder of the still edible food. He’ll go back for water later. He looked at the few candy bars the store had left.  _Does Sherlock like chocolate?_  John decided to take them anyways and lugged his fairly heavy bag. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and John grimaced. This little trip took longer than he thought it would take.

  _I’ve got to get going._

 The walk to Baker Street was dreadful, the sound of his breathing and each step he took made it seem like it echoed forever. He always listened for something to happen, sometimes he hoped one of Them would pop out. The eerie silence was making him anxious. He hummed to himself quietly as he made his way back, thinking about where he planned on going next, but wait. What about Sherlock? His new.. friend? colleague? They weren’t going to stay together much longer were they? Sherlock seemed annoyed with John around, but there was something about him that John couldn’t ignore.

  _For one, he is gorgeous._

 Oh, god.. No no no no, a bit not good. He can’t get attached. He just can’t. John’s shoulders sagged with memories of Harry.

  _Harry._

 John stopped, his leg ached a bit.

  _Get it together, you can’t let this affect you anymore. Remember? You promised yourself you’d rather die alone than leaving someone behind. But maybe I could enjoy the time I have with Sherlock now? No, that can’t work. I’m attracted to the bloody git. It will only cause problems._

 John walked the rest of the way to Baker Street, his mind clouded with thoughts of Sherlock.

 * * *

 As he opened the door he heard a beautiful, elegant noise emitting throughout the flat. John treaded up the stairs and opened the door quietly and saw Sherlock playing the violin in the middle of the room. John gaped, Sherlock didn’t seem to notice. Or was pretending to not notice.

 Sherlock’s performance ended all too quickly and he set down his violin in its case. John stood there amazed and slightly embarrassed, he could only imagine what kind of face he was making.

 “You play the violin?”

 “It helps me think.”

 “Oh. Well, I got some more painkillers, bandages and food. Do you like chocolate? It’s not often you get to indulge into something like that so I got us a few bars.” John sputtered as he took out the supplies he fetched, setting them on the table.

 What John didn’t expect was the presence of Sherlock behind him, he could feel the man breathing on his neck. John stiffened.

 “Thanks.”

 Sherlock reached for the painkillers and a chocolate bar and limped back to the couch. 

 He remained frozen to ground and bit his lip muttering  “No problem.”

 * * *

 John decided to retreat to his new room earlier that night, remembering that deep voice rumbling behind him and how his breath felt hot against his neck. He noticed he had an aching erection and groaned.

  _Fuck._

He let his hand drift down to his pants with a hand lingering over his groin. He grabbed his erection and stroked it lazily. John gasped. His mind was flooded with images of Sherlock, he should’ve felt bad but he didn’t have the decency to care at the moment. He shoved off his pants and slid his hand back over his erection and fisted it, gradually going faster. He muffled his moans with his unoccupied hand. He was getting close, his breathing became frantic and his motions jerky.

_Sherlock_

John groaned quietly, as his orgasm overtook him. Quickly, he took off his shirt and wiped himself off and tossed it to the ground.

He just got off to a man. A man he just met. Someone he hasn’t even touched or gotten to know yet. John turned onto his side deciding he was too lazy to care as sleep gradually took over.


	5. Chapter 5

John avoided Sherlock as much as possible the rest of the week, only getting near to check his injury and to force him to eat. He felt like a mother trying to tend to her adolescent bratty son. Sherlock on the other hand would complain, and play the violin. Mostly complain. They tried to play a board game once, but then Sherlock decided to throw a tantrum about how “it isn’t physically possible to kill someone like that” and John just argued back about how it’s just a game.

Eventually, John thought it would be best to write in his journal because spending endless hours with his insane, childish, brilliant flatmate was starting to take a toll on him. 

_We’re going to have to leave this location soon, food is starting to run low. Sherlock’s foot is healing well and should be up in the next few days. I’ll ask him if he’d like to join me. Winter is approaching and we need to find someplace safe, secure and warm. I have a couple places in mind, but winters in London are always brutal, temperatures are dropping. It’s been pouring rain the past few days and well, that’s not good. I will ask him tonight, that way we can begin to plan. The bad thing is, if he refuses.. I don’t want to leave him._

John closed his journal and tucked it back into his bag, slumping down onto his bed. He listened closely to any sounds indicating Sherlock playing the violin or perhaps he was experimenting on a mouse, _again._ Since when had his thoughts been clouded with only thoughts of Sherlock? He put his head in his hands, and sighed.  

“JOHN!”

A banging noise was emitting from the door downstairs, growls joining it. John’s heart sped, he grabbed his gun on the desk and dashed down to Sherlock.

“What’s going on?!” John panicked.

“I was playing the violin too loud I think. I wasn’t aware that They were out there.” Sherlock replied 

“Right. Can you walk?”

 Sherlock nodded.

 “Grab everything you need, we’re leaving.”

 “John-”

 “This isn’t the time Sherlock! We need to get out, now!”

 John hurried upstairs and gathered his belongings. Joining Sherlock moments later to find more at the door.

“How many are there now?” John asked quietly.

 “Four.”

 John peered out the window to see the street slowly filling with Them. He readied his gun and peered out the front door. Five now. He felt like he was going to explode, he felt  responsible for Sherlock now. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to him, even if it meant him dying.

 “Did you get everything? Blankets too.”

“Yeah, I think it would be best if we left now though.”

 “Get ready, I’m going to shoot them and as soon as I tell you to run, run!”

 John put his hand on the doorknob and took a few deep breaths. He opened the door and shot the first one in the forehead, it dropped quickly and the others bared their teeth at him. The growling was vicious and they were very hungry apparently. John kicked one on his left, making it fall on the monster behind it.

 “Sherlock, run!”

 He shot the next on his right, and rushed past the others getting up slowly.

 Sherlock limped as fast as he could past him. John following keeping an eye behind on the gradually increasing mob of hungry flesh-eaters.

  _Not good._

 “Follow me.”

 John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and led him down numerous roads, the crowd behind them decreasing. The sun was beginning to set by the time they got to their destination. An old flat that seemed to be falling apart, with a bloodstained door. A car was parked out front, and the flat seemed to be vacant. John walked up to the door slowly checking if the door was unlocked.

 “Come on,” he was out of breath and exhausted. Sherlock seemed to be in a similar state.

 The house reeked of rotting flesh and food, an unflattering combination.

 “My parents used to live here, before they passed. I have a spare key still and I thought it would be an okay place to stay for now.”

 “For now? You want to stay with me?”

John ignored him and checked the kitchen for any signs of Them, Sherlock followed him.

 “John.”

 “Listen, I understand you don’t want to stay with me. You can leave anytime you want, I won’t force you to--”

 Sherlock spun John around and kissed him softly, pressing him up against the kitchen counter. John gasped gripping onto the counter top with every inch of strength he had left, he felt his knees begin to buckle. Sherlock put both of his hands on John’s waist to steady him and whispered into his ear “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been busy with school and real life issues! No beta again, sorry! Don't hurt me.


	6. Chapter 6

John pushed Sherlock away from his lips and sighed, something wasn't right here. Sherlock looked puzzled, then blank. Waiting for John to say whatever was bugging him.

"Sherlock, what was that?"

"It was a kiss, John. You can't be that dim-"

"No, Sherlock. That was something else, you've never showed signs of interest in me."

Sherlock sighed and looked out the window facing the foul smelling refrigerator. The vacant world seemed to be more fascinating than John's persisting questions. He leaned against the counter and looked John in the eyes, waiting.

"Sherlock."

"I noticed your attraction for me, and you've proved yourself useful the past two weeks."

John froze, dropping his gaze to the floor. He clenched his fists and began to shake with his face flushing. "Useful?" John bit out coldly. His gaze met Sherlock's empty stare, wishing his eyes could pierce through him. John laughed and started to pace, his breathing picked up.

"You know what? Fuck you, Sherlock." John growled, marching past Sherlock to grab all his things.

"John, wait." Sherlock followed him into the living room, panicking a bit.

"No, you don't just take advantage of people like that. Didn't your mother teach you anything about being respectful? All you had to do was say 'I would like you to stay' that's all. But no, can't you ask for something like a normal person would?

"It's dark outside, John. Just wait," Sherlock said grabbing his John's wrist.

John wrenched his wrist out of his hand and gathered his belongings, placing his gun in its spot. He was seething, hands shaking, trying to make as much noise as he can. He ignored Sherlock frowning at him and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

Then, he was in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is extremely short, sorry! I love you all!


	7. Chapter 7

John walks as far away as he can. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t care that he can’t see around him. He doesn’t care that he’s tired.

 He can’t stop thinking about how Sherlock used him this entire time, most likely knowing this entire time how John felt about him. 

 John pinches his nose and sighs.

  _I have to go back._

 He takes him time walking back to the flat, he needs to be quiet. John doesn’t know what’s going to happen when he gets back. And that scares him. John knows he shouldn’t be thinking about how that at the moment when there could be those Things right behind him without knowing. He stops to take out his flashlight, but doesn’t turn it on. These streets are familiar, so he’ll only use it if absolutely necessary.

 John hears a vicious growl from behind him. He runs, calmly.

  _Of all the times, it just has to be now. Way to go Watson._

 John can’t waste anymore bullets at this point, it’s an awful move. He’s running low on ammunition, and he forgot to bring any close range weapons. The thing behind him is catching up, growling loud. Its trying to claw at John, mouth spitting out blood. Several more growls are heard to his left and right.

  _Shit, fuck. Bollocks._

 He’s getting tired and his hand is trembling reaching for his gun. 

_I either live or die._

 He takes out his gun and turns around placing his flashing on top of the gun aiming for the Thing’s head. John’s finger is on the trigger when he sees a tall figure dash in front of him and slashes the Thing’s neck.

 John stands there surprised, and unable to move. His heart is pounding and he’s scared. He watches as the figure takes out two more of Them with ease, blood staining its shirt.

 Before he knows it, the figure grabs John’s hand and drags him into a nearby house.


End file.
